There have been a couple of times in the history of this blog that I have attempted to capture the silent relief that hangs in the band hall after the school year has ended. That stillness is quickly dispelled, however, by the long checklist of things that need to be done to actually wrap up the year and prepare for the next. This list seems daunting at first, but the good news is that these are mostly solitary activities, which means I can provide my own soundtrack without fear of annoying anyone. This year, I am blaring Dungen’s Allas Sak as I count instruments in my new band hall.
When I first discovered Dungen in 2006, I was immediately impressed with their unique blend of psychedelic, progressive, and classic rock. They were able to evoke both dreamy wash of The Moody Blues and the muscular groove of Led Zeppelin, but effortlessly dodged derivation by way of their impressive tunefulness and musicality. When I picked up Allas Sak in 2015 on a whim at End of an Ear Records, I was as impressed as ever. It was more of the same great retro psychedelia that I remembered them doing.
Herein like the paradox, however, of Dungen. There is a sense of sameness to their work. On the one hand, it's all great, but superficially, there are relatively few surprises once the initial shock of how good they are wears off. To get into their innovations from album to album takes investment, and sadly in 2015 I just didn’t invest. I shelved Allas Sak with the intention of coming back to it. This took over two years.
Revisiting Allas Sak has reignited my admiration for Dungen, which is tempered by the guilty admission that I don’t give them the credit that they deserve. They really do have something going on, especially on this album. If you are tired of struggling with the very real possibility that The Flaming Lips have jumped the shark, Dungen may be the cure. There are an abundance of riffs and soaring atmospherics and guitar, all of which are navigated with tasteful musicianship that rivals Pink Floyd's best work.
The elephant in the room, of course, is that when they aren't creating deeply melodic instrumentals, the band boldly insists on singing in their native tongue. While I agree that they could be singing in total gibberish and I would still love them, I do have the somewhat selfish sense that gaining an understanding of their lyrics would deepen my appreciation for their music. I don’t want him to sing a single word of English, however, because that would dramatically change Dungen’s identity. Conversely, I don't really want to learn Swedish just to understand their lyrics, so I guess we are at a cultural impasse there.
Allas Sak is echoing down the empty halls on the cusp of what has been one of the most difficult school years I've had in a long time. Don’t misunderstand - the new job has been good. Things are more positive in my professional life than they were previously, and there is the sense that they will get better. Still, restarting this program has been stressful. Still things aren't going to lighten up too much with a third child being born in a couple of weeks, but at least I won't be moving. Or trying to start a new program. Or trying to figure out how to make the program that I'm working in better. For just a few weeks I'll have a bit of a respite to really focus in on what is really important to me - my family.
I watched Obama’s election as I was moving to Austin from Carrollton with no small amount of anticipation and excitement, and when he won the Presidency the world felt different. Although might have been inexperienced at the time, I had some conviction that he had the best interests of the country at heart, an opinion that did not change much during his tenure. I was proud to be an American and was genuinely hopeful about the future.
This inauguration, conversely, filled me with dread. I felt, and still feel, anxious about the natural and social environment that my kids will be looking at in the near and far future. Like many, I have traveled through stages in dealing with this new reality, so during my denial phase I made it my goal to avoid the inauguration entirely to keep the ratings down. This may seem escapist, but I justified it by showing my lack of support in any way possible. The same weekend, I put Oczy Mlody in rotation.
There seemed to be no better way to escape reality than to sink into the soft non-euclidean psychedelia of The Flaming Lips. Very few bands have been able to retain both a modicum of visibility and the kind of artistic freedom that The Flaming Lips enjoy. They could literally put out an album of duck sounds and people would at least take notice. That being said, I was on the fence about this one.
In the band’s primary narrative, there has been an attempt to collapse their experimental side with mainstream songwriting in search of a singular, cohesive statement. This, I like. Simultaneously, however, they have been diversifying in ways that aren’t as convincing, releasing shark-jumping cover albums and collaborations. Despite my long-term investment in the band, these recent releases made me consider taking a pass on Oczy Mlody. The video for The Castle, however, immediately sold me.
Oczy Mlody is the first “proper” Flaming Lips album since The Terror, which took darker themes and washed them over with buzzy experimentalism. In comparison, Oczy Mlody juxtaposes brighter, trippy songs against psychedelic sound experiments. This approach allows them to incorporate a broad spectrum of sounds that they have explored in other non-traditional formats, from multi-jambox CD releases to flash drives released in gummi skulls.
But I see The Flaming Lips as primarily an album band. For decades, they have released consistently coherent recordings that are best digested as a whole, rather than as a collection of singles. Oczy Mlody is impressively strong in this regard. Paradoxically, however, the individual parts that make up the album feel less focused. There are a few songs that emerge from the experience, but these are surrounded by floating ambient sound experiments, fuzzed-out jams, and spaghetti-western guitar themes.
Although some critics have taken exception to the album’s lack of clear boundaries, my increased interest in instrumental music and soundtracks may have enriched my appreciation of Oczy Mlody. It doesn’t feature the standout melodies of some of their earlier works, but in terms of texture and flow, it’s still quite convincing. At the same time, although it seems that the band is focusing more in being weird than making a clear statement, there does seem to be a coherent narrative that lies beyond the songwriting upon which they built their image.
Almost immediately after I got back from the cruise, I began to transition into my new position in the North Texas area. Within a week, I was commuting from Austin to Denton, effectively homeless and relying on the hospitality of friends for a place to sleep. I spent a lot of time driving up and down I-35, and it would seem like a prime time to crank through a whole bunch of music, but my in-car CD rotation has remained basically static since the June roundup. This is partially because the CD collection is still in boxes, but admittedly, I also have had a hard time letting go of this run of music. In retrospect, this collection of albums seems like a thread of continuity though that period.
And it feels as if I am still clinging to them, as they also represent the last vestiges of my Austin life: Weezer [white], A Moon Shaped Pool, The Force Awakens OST, Plastic House at Base of Sky, Some Boots, The Invention of Knowledge, Bottomless Pit, Get to Heaven, and The Monolith of Phobos. These albums all contain frozen moments from those long commutes. Rather then do an extended roundup of albums that I have mostly already addressed, however, the curious case of The Lennon/Claypool Delerium’s The Monolith of Phobos deserves specific mention (also because some readers asked for it).
Although I am a fan of both Les Claypool and Sean Lennon, I would never have predicted them collaborating. Over the past few years, Lennon waded through introspective pop waters into 60’s tinged psychedelia while Claypool, when not fronting Primus, seemed fully committed to the jam-band paradigm. Still, the two have found some common ground and despite the seeming oddness of their pairing, it works.
Any project that includes Les Claypool has to deal with the fact that no matter what happens, comparisons to Primus are inevitable. Despite being far more mercurial in his musicianship, however, Lennon’s nuanced songwriting and melodic strengths provide a compelling counterbalance to Claypool’s penchant for groovy ditties about all the freaks and weirdos he knows.
Furthermore, A quick look at the liner notes shows that the album is, indeed, created and performed entirely by Claypool and Lennon. Lennon has his share of convincing guitar and keyboard leads, but Claypool clearly bears the shredding burden. His bass playing is at an all-time high in terms of its melodic content. Lennon’s greatest strengths shine through as an arranger, but as a drummer, his performance is adequate, if sometimes frantic. While it works pretty well in the classic psychedelic style that they are shooting for, I can’t help but wonder what might have happened if the drums were outsourced - especially if Claypool is still on good terms with his old Oysterhead cohort and former Police drummer Stewart Copeland.
His presence, however, would endanger the project’s early Pink Floyd feel that, with some reinterpretation, the Delerium is pretty successful at capturing. This takes a little imagination to see: let’s say that if Roger Waters had an affinity for the Isley Brothers and Syd Barrett had not had a psychotic break, they might have developed a similar writing partnership as Claypool and Lennon. Bubbles Burst is a good example of the way in which their unique characteristics mesh.
The video earned Lennon a bit of ire for its macabre characterization of Michael Jackson. It's important to note, however, that Lennon is not speaking as an outsider. He was one of several young celebrities that was invited to hang out at Neverland back in the day, which earns him the right to describe the experience however he sees fit. Truth of the matter was, Jackson WAS weird, and just because he has passed on (due in part to his eccentricities) I don’t think that it is necessary to sweep Lennon’s perception of that whole scene under the carpet because it doesn’t portray Jackson in the most positive light. In fact, I think it's even more important because it is an honest recollection of a closed-door scene. Plus, it’s a actually a pretty good song.
And that’s the really impressive thing about The Monolith of Phobos. Despite all its quirkiness, it's an accessible listen. During one of our many family road trips during that month of homelessness, I put it on, fully prepared for the request to take it off and put in Everything Everything’s Get to Heaven again. I was surprised to watch the wife and kids bobbing their heads to the infectious funk shanty Captain Lariat. It became a family favorite that, like the Lennon/Claypool Delirium itself, I could not have predicted.
A lot has happened to Syd Arthur since I stumbled across them last summer. On and On was a refreshing collection of prog-tinged tunes held together by asymmetrical time signatures and complex textures. They were accessible, however, in a way that set the more conservative prog community ill at ease. I hoped that the band would not submit to the expectations of this sometimes insatiable audience. Fortunately, as I had hoped, the band stuck to their original mission statement. Their sophomore release Sound Mirror is more of the same, only done better. It is a deep exploration of the territory staked out by their debut that avoids exactly retracing its exact successes.
In addition to the artistic success of Sound Mirror, Syd Arthur served as the opening band for Yes on their recent tour. Considering Syd Arthur’s clear regard for prog days gone by, they could not have asked for a better venue. From what I have seen, Syd Arthur was relatively well received, winning over new fans at every show. I don't find this particularly surprising. Fans of the current, non-traditional iteration of Yes are more likely to be more open minded progressive listeners. Predictably, however, the positive response has not been unanimous. In particular, I was taken off guard when an old college friend whose musical opinion I value saw them on this tour and thought that they “had no songs.”
As much as I love Syd Arthur, I can see how it might seem that way, especially at first glance. It took me some time to decide if I liked the sounds or the songs from On and On. Viewed superficially, the ostinato riffs that serve as the foundation of their songs can seem a little jam-bandyand, by traditional progressive rock standards, a little repetitive. On the other hand, these riffs are pretty complex, and constructing memorable melodies over this texture takes more than just an ear for a tune.
It is common for contemporary progressive rock bands to lose sight of accessibility for the sake of complexity. The melodic nature of Syd Arthur's music allows them to dodge this issue nicely and in doing so, cuts through the hazy space between progressive rock and more contemporary
alternative rock styles. Although they exhibit a clear nostalgia for 70s psychedelia, they also a connect with more recent experimental rock. The opening riff of Sinkhole, for example, would have fit nicely on any album released by Radiohead in the late 90s.
Syd Arthur's navigation of these closely intertwined styles makes it tempting to engage in the increasingly threadbare "what is prog?" debate. I'll save you the trouble: the distinction is subjective. For some, like myself, Radiohead, Muse, and other adventurous acts are the next logical step in the ongoing evolution of progressive rock. For others, the style is strictly defined by characteristics that were set in stone nearly forty years ago. Syd Arthur, however, draws a straight line between these two conceptions of the genre in a way that challenges the boundary between them.
Initially, it wasn’t Astra’s sound that put them on my radar – it was the pale blue landscape from the cover of The Weirding. It looked like a Roger Dean landscape that had burned to the ground, and I couldn’t resist checking it out. When it finally made it into rotation, I consistently enjoyed its idiosyncratic mellotron-drenched approach to retro-prog. Overall, however, it was a bit overlong, oblique, and, unfortunately, it fell through the cracks in the long term. Still, Astra presented themselves as the kind of adventurous underground group that I like to adopt and promote.
With the Year in Rush project over and the artistic success of Clockwork Angels, my ear for fresh, satisfying progressive rock was wide open, so when Astra announced The Black Chord earlier this year, I took notice. The initial promo clip for Quake Meat was particularly fulfilling, if visually underwhelming.
It seemed that Astra had not given up on their space-rock leanings, but this track’s melodic aspects lent it a noticeable focus that I was missing on The Weirding. Pennies were juggled, and The Black Chord made its way into my player towards the middle of last month. It was my intention to make it the soundtrack to summer camp. Several times in my hotel room, I was caught up in its aggressively swirling tapestry as I recovered from a long day of practice and test preparation, but my sleep-deprived, exhausted state made it impossible to get through a focused, uninterrupted listen without nodding off. The Black Chord did not really begin to take root until I “came down off the mountain,” so to speak, and restarted my humdrum commute to prepare for the upcoming school year.
My initial inability to stay awake during The Black Chord had nothing to do with the album itself. It’s quite exciting and harbors multiple twists and turns. Where The Weirding had potential, I think The Black Chord succeeds, solidifying Astra’s significance in contemporary progressive and psychedelic rock.
There is a thin line between these two genres that Astra treads most effectively, and in doing so, they confound the monochromatic tendencies of most retro-prog. Although they retain their predilection towards non-standard song forms, the energy and melodic content of the album provides a sense of direction that holds the listener’s attention more effectively than its predecessor. The Black Chord's succinct running time also contributes to its success. Although a lot of “space rock” and “psychedelic” music thrives in extended forms, classic progressive albums were most successful when they generally hit the 45 minute mark (a constraint also levied by the space limitations of 70s vinyl).
What makes The Black Chord so intellectually engaging is a melodicism that is clearly inspired by early 70s King Crimson and Yes. Certainly, with a stack of Moog keyboards, Hammond organs, mellotrons, and a predilection towards sixteenth note triplet ornaments, Astra’s keyboards are clearly set to “Wakemanize.” This technical drive, however, stands out on a background of hues reminiscent of Pink Floyd’s pre-Dark Side work, and their deeply textured riffing is a hypnotic spiral that plainly refers to Hawkwind. Richard Vaughn’s “Ozzy-esque” vocals also provide dark outlines that further focus The Black Chord’sbroad palate.
I am indulging in these comparisons because, like any retro-project, Astra is easily described by their references – perhaps too easily. Because of this, it is problematic to describe them as “unique,” but I can say with all confidence that Astra is a distinctive iteration of progressive and psychedelic music. By recombining the sounds of the past, they create a moving commentary on an adventurous era of music that isn't tied to a particular version of it. Astra is their own group, and The Black Chord is relevant progress for them, times gone by, and the present moment. Fans of this kind of music could not do much better than to pick it up.
